As Far As the East Is From the West
by Cello Case
Summary: SLASH/rape. Mansfield Park. Henry Crawford's true intentions are too violent and powerful to be held back any longer.


Mansfield As Far As East Is From The West   
a slash fanfiction   
based on the characters and some events of   
Mansfield Park by Jane Austen 

Piece the First 

"I swear, I have never seen a duller day," the dashing man at the window   
scoffed as he gazed in the the swirling rain.   
"Ah, but Henry, rain is not dull," a handsome woman said as she   
approached his side, her black curly hair falling coyly from its bun.   
"Yes, Henry!" a heavy-set, overconfident young girl said, "The rain is when   
it perfect for making love!"   
Henry sighed and rolled his eyes, his back to the girl. He knew in his heart   
that he hated this Maria Burtram. He had eyes of lust for another.   
And that someone was near.   
A lovely girl with fierce yet kind eyes and dark hair scoffed slightly. "Maria,   
is nothing other on your mind?"   
"Please, Julia, if you continue this course you'll become a complete   
prudess."   
Henry fought back from saying, "And you are not?" but it may make him   
look most unkind.   
An older woman in a plain dress and working bonnet bustled into the room.   
"Now, my darling Maria," she said, and added with glances to each girl, "oh, yes,   
Julia, Fanny...There are many things to discuss for my sweet Maria's wedding.   
Come along." She just as quickly left the room.   
After the sisters Maria and Julia left the room, the handsome woman next   
to Henry sighed. "Well, I suppose it is my place to continue to sit and nod while   
those three twitter away." She smiled at him and followed her forced companions.   
Henry smiled to himself. Miss Fanny Price's strong nature was certainly a   
good quality in a modern woman. Her wilfulness, he understood from his   
conversations with his sister Mary, was "a mere mask to cover her   
insecurities...and a very interest invoking way to court."   
Miss Price would make a lovely wife one day.   
But not with him.   
He turned to the only person left in the room, a youth named Edmund   
Bertram. Nothing like his relatives, he was a very witty dashing young man, and   
he was visibly in some form of love with Miss Price. Of course, that was never   
one to sway Henry.   
Henry cleared his throat. "Well, Sir Edmund," he said, "I have yet seen   
many of the estates. Would you give me the liberty of seeing them?"   
Edmund looked up. "Oh, er...certainly, Mr. Crawford-"   
"Please, Henry."   
"Er, alright...Henry." 

As they walked down one of the crumbling halls of the western wing,   
Henry kept sneaking more gazes at his tour guide than at the marvellous etched   
paintings of Lady Bertram's prized pug. In one swift motion, he moved in front of   
Edmund.   
"You know, I think there is something even more interesting I could show   
you...or that we could show each other," he said, with his working smile in place.   
Edmund shifted uncomfortably and took a step back. "And, that is...?"   
With another quick movement, Henry pinned Edmund against the wall.   
"Look, Edmund, I'm not about to continue playing games anymore." He lowered   
his voice into a seductive whisper, and breathed his words in the Edmund's ear.   
"Unless they're lovers' games."   
"You'd be wise to move away from me, Mister Crawford," Edmund said,   
almost trembling.   
It seemed to have been that the gods had blessed Henry with zealous   
movements, because before the youth could stop him he had cupped his left   
hand onto Edmund's crotch.   
Edmund let out a little sound of mixed suprise, horror, and pleasure.   
"Gods, let go of me, you sick dog!"   
Henry disobeyed very openly, and he only made fleet movements with his   
hand, evoking more sounds from the back of Edmund's throat. He felt a large   
stiffness growing inside Edmund's trousers. "You mouth begs for release, but   
your body begs to be imprisoned. You, Sir Edmund Bertrum, are to be mine and   
mine alone." He began stroking the man's member through his pants as he hotly   
hissed the next words to his affectionerre. "I want you to see only me. Touch only   
me. Think of only me."   
Edmund seemed to be violently fighting to keep himself from enjoying   
Henry's movements against him. He could feel the blood rushing from head to   
meeting Henry's hand. It was becoming almost painful, and even more painful to   
resist so strongly.   
Edmund's opposing reactions were arousing Henry even more. But he   
could very well see Edmund was very near ejaculation. So he released.   
Edmund looked up at him with a half pleading, half disgusted look. Henry   
said, "Now, I want you to clean yourself through. Finish what I started. And while   
you do, you must think of me."   
He turned on his heel, and walked away. 

Piece the Second 

Edmund stood in shock. He felt filthy. He had just had to resort to   
something as crude as masturbation because of this new seduction. And once   
worse...   
...he HAD thought about Mr. Crawford when he cleaned himself through.   
He felt so thoroughly disgusting! He wanted to take a long cold bath and   
scrape away the feeling of Henry on his skin. He wasn't supposed to like the   
feeling of another man pleasuring him!   
There was a knock on his door. His father slowly opened the door, and   
looked in. "Mr. Henry Crawford requests an audience with you." He paused an   
gave his son an appraisingly sceptical look. "My god, boy, you look horrible." And   
he was off. 

"I was hoping you would come," Henry Crawford said as Edmund   
approached, "in more ways than one." He began walking around the young man,   
every now and then running a slender finger along his shoulderlines.   
"You are a very sick man, Mister Crawford, you are wretched. Men do not   
belong together--"   
"These are modern times, Sir Edmund. But even in the past time, men   
were freely loving to each other. Shakespeare was a flaming homosexual; a vast   
majority of his sonnets were dedicated to his lust for a young man. The very first   
book ever written was about two men in love, and it was a great piece of   
literature. Kings kept young boys as manservants to molest them as they   
pleased. Some of the builders of our times were avidly, in newer terms, gay. We   
could make great literature together, my dear, if you simply broaden your   
desires."   
"You're a mad filthy man, Crawford."   
"Believe what you want, because my quests for you are quite erotic." He   
paused to run his finger along the lining on Edmund's fine jacket, and said, "Miss   
Price has a well-bound book of Shakespeare's sonnets...read them for yourself." 

Edmund looked up in horror from Fanny's leather-bound book. //My god,//   
he thought, //Henry was right. These are about men.//   
"Edmund?" Fanny said concernedly, "Edmund, are you alright? You look   
truly ill."   
Edmund nervously cleared his throat. "Erm, yes, Miss Price, I'm fine.   
Illness does not quail over me...just yet. Er, if you shall forgive me, I must   
precede to bed, I am most tired from the days events." And he left the bewildered   
Fanny behind as he marched to his room. 

Edmund's eyes flickered open from his slumber. He could feel a pressure   
upon him. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the light, then looked down to see a   
very naked Henry Crawford sprawled across him, suckling on his bare chest.   
"Get off me!" he tried to cry, hoping someone would hear and come to see   
the matter.   
"My dear Edmund," the man across him said between licks on his erecting   
nipple, "I have carried you like a babe to the western wing. No one can hear you   
scream in here, my darling. Now will you stop crying out, I'm trying to make love   
to you."   
"Get off! You bastard!" he screamed, and then he mewled softly, "Why are   
you trying to humiliate me?"   
Henry froze, and stared into Edmund's dark eyes. After a pause in which   
tears of shame leaked from Edmund's eyes, Henry said, "Is that what you truly   
think?"   
` Edmund forced his eyes into Henry's, and they hypnotized him. "Fine," he   
said very sternly, "Go have your pleasures, you filthy bastard dog. And when you   
masturbate to these jollies I hope you gag and fall dead."   
And to his extreme suprise, Henry began to cry.   
Edmund completely and utterly didn't know what to do. He couldn't comfort   
this man, but here he was, bawling like a child with it's mother lost and gone. He   
sobbed into Edmund's stomach.   
"Stop it!" Edmund cried, "Stop doing this!!"   
Henry looked up, his eyes red and puffy. "Please, just listen to me. Just for   
a moment. After wishing my death, you owe me that much."   
Reluctantly, he nodded.   
"Not two years ago my lover of three years died. He and I made love   
nearly every night for two years. I loved him more that I've loved anyone. I loved   
him more than I loved my own sister. He was my life, and I've felt so empty since   
he died. I've wanted to die myself. Mary has more than once had to pry a knife   
from my fist seconds before I pierced it into my heart. I have felt so dead. But   
you...you've stirred something inside of me that I thought I had lost forever. I   
thought my heart would never long for another man after my darling David   
passed, but every time I look at you...it's like I'm looking at him.   
"Now...I realize that if I were to make love to you now...it wouldn't be   
lovemaking, it would be rape." He began to arise, and Edmund to his personal   
disgust noticed how greatly endowed. "I'll be seeing you then...Mr. Burtram." 

Piece the Third 

Edmund lay in his bed, retying his trousers and thinking about Henry.   
Maybe he should simply consider his offer, say he considered it, and move on.   
The scary part was...when he felt Henry sucking the life out of his breast...lacing   
his chest with his slick tongue...he actually liked it.   
It was the most bizzare thing. He grew excited as Henry was violating him.   
He had hoped Henry would continue to attempt to make love to him when he   
egged him on, and was strangely disappointed when he didn't. How was this   
justifiable?   
A fantasy filled his mind of he and Henry in the billiard room. Henry tore his   
clothes off and sat him on the billiard table, shedding his own clothes. Edmund   
lifted his legs expectantly, and Henry plunged into him. He pumped into him   
violently. Edmund was screaming in ecstacy. Henry was about to come inside   
him...   
CLANG!   
Fanny had come through the thick steel doors, now illuminated by the   
candle light. "Edmund!" she cried, hurrying to him, "What on this earth has   
happened to you?!"   
Edmund looked down to his crotch. That had been a wet fantasy indeed.   
Fanny looked down too, and suddenly looked disgusted. "Er...um...well...   
now I know why you were shrieking..."   
"Wait, Fanny!" Edmund called as his cousin glided huffily from the room.   
BANG!   
She had slammed the door so hard some of the candles blew out. 

The night was very akward for Edmund. Disturbing and filthy fantasies   
continually flew in and out of his dreaming mind like birds to a nest. More than   
once he had woken with such a painful orgasm he had to force his come out. This   
was violent! This was killing him! It was too much too soon!   
He shook his head. He had to find Henry. 


End file.
